


A Little Bit Selfish

by Laylah



Category: Tales of the Abyss
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-14
Updated: 2009-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-02 17:07:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Idiot. They both need the company, don't they? More than they need to cling to propriety and rules from a place that doesn't exist anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Bit Selfish

The click of his door closing is final, comforting, like permission to relax at last. Guy lets out his breath in a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping.

"Gailardia," Van says gently.

"I'm fine," Guy says, turning back to face him, mustering a smile. "And it's just Guy now, really."

"As you wish," Van says. "Guy." He nods, conceding defeat, but Guy would bet he'll do it again next time anyway. He always does. As if Guy could forget the past that --

Okay, they should be talking about something else. "Luke's not usually that bad, you know," he says. "Sometimes I think he's just acting out to get your attention."

Van smiles. "I wouldn't be surprised," he says. "I have young knights under my command who act much the same."

"I bet," Guy says. He won't be jealous, he tells himself. Of course Van's soldiers have crushes on him -- who wouldn't? "You can make them scrub the floor of the barracks when they get to be too much trouble, though."

"Indeed," Van says. "Luke is lucky you're so patient."

"Lucky I had you, you mean," Guy says. He takes the first step forward -- he always has to start it, or Van will be too proper -- and he thinks he can see something ease in the set of Van's shoulders. Idiot. They both need the company, don't they? More than they need to cling to propriety and rules from a place that doesn't exist anymore. "I don't think I could do this now if you hadn't done it for me."

Van smiles, though it's a little bitter. "Don't tell me I'm responsible for the son of Duke Fabre being treated well," he says. "You wound me."

Guy manages to return the smile, but he doesn't think he looks any more honestly happy about it than Van does. "Okay, let's not talk about Luke, then," he says. He takes another step, and Van opens his arms so Guy can lean into him and hold on. They're almost the same height now -- Guy can remember when Van towered over him -- but Van's still broader through the shoulders than Guy will ever be. Guy doesn't mind. It's sort of comforting, having him feel so solid. "I've missed you."

"And I you," Van says. His voice is a low rumble that Guy feels as much as hears, and he smells of sage and clean sweat. Guy leans into him, eyes closed. Already this is a lot better.

When Van's fingers dig into the taut columns of muscle between his shoulderblades, Guy chokes on a moan. "You've worked so hard taking care of others," Van says. "When was the last time you let someone care for you?"

Guy laughs ruefully. "It's been too long," he says.

"Then please, allow me," Van says. "Tell me what I can do for you, Master Gailardia."

Guy doesn't even bother to correct him that time. "I -- more of this, I think," he says. "Here, give me a minute." He steps back, pulling his gloves off and reaching down to unbutton his vest.

Van unclasps his tabard and shrugs out of it, setting it aside as Guy pulls his shirt untucked and strips that off, too. He's about to ask, where do you want me? and then realizes how silly that is.

"How's this?" he says instead, pulling off his boots and stretching out on his bed, pillowing his head on his arms.

"As you like," Van says -- reminding him, Guy thinks -- and removes his own boots before he comes up to join Guy on the bed.

His weight is heavy and solid across Guy's thighs, and his hands are warm on the bare skin of Guy's back. "You keep up your training well," he says, as his hands dig into the knots that pull tight on either side of Guy's spine.

"When I can," Guy says. The pressure of Van's hands pushes sounds from his lungs, short huffs of breath and soft moans. "The days always feel -- ah, there, please -- like they're not long enough to get to everything."

"No," Van agrees. "Responsibilities never seem to want to wait, do they? Always too much to do." He turns both hands on the knot he's found, and Guy fights the urge to squirm out from under the intensity of the pressure. "But you can leave all that for now, for a little while."

"Yeah," Guy says. He slows down his breathing, the way Pere showed him when he first started training with the sword, and the little tensions he's been carrying in all his muscles start to unwind slowly. "Thanks."

Van hums. "My pleasure," he says. The knot in Guy's right shoulder gives under his hands, and he moves downward slowly, his heat and strength soothing down either side of Guy's spine.

Guy can feel himself calming, relaxing, as Van works on him. He hadn't really noticed how tense he was, how much energy he was wasting by walking around ready for a blow that wasn't coming, but now --

When Van leans down, presses his lips to the back of Guy's neck, it feels so good. "Tell me if I presume too much," he says, his beard rough against Guy's skin.

"Not at all," Guy says. He shrugs his shoulders, and Van sits back enough that Guy can roll over and face him. "You're good to me," Guy says, reaching up to pull Van down again.

The kiss is just what he expects from Van -- strong, familiar, without hesitation. Guy opens his mouth to take in Van's tongue, to let Van bite at his lip. The rasp of Van's beard against wet skin burns, just a little, and he likes that, too.

"I do my best, my lord," Van says when Guy releases his mouth to catch his breath. "It is my duty." He leans down and kisses Guy again as if he expects the protest and doesn't want to hear it. "And not only my duty," he goes on after the kiss.

"Good," Guy says. "I want -- I don't want to ask anything unpleasant of you. Especially like this."

"You never have," Van says. He's smiling when he meets Guy's eyes, and it's hard to even read everything behind that look. "Ask me whatever you'd like, master." There's just a little emphasis on the last word, just a little twist to his lips, like this is more a game they're playing than just the result of what houses they were born to.

Even as a game, the idea that he could ask for whatever he wanted is daunting. "I want," Guy says, and has to stop to think about it. He rests his hands on Van's thighs. "Take your clothes off," he says. It's weird to be giving orders. "I want to ride you."

Van's eyebrows rise just a fraction in surprise, but then his smile only broadens. "As you wish, my lord." He strips off his tunic, baring his chest, the muscle there hard and sculpted by long hours spent training in the Albert style's powerful strokes. He has to get up to be able to take off his pants, which is fine, because it means that Guy has enough room to do likewise.

When Guy leans off the side of the bed and snags the bottle he keeps stashed out of sight between these visits, Van takes it from his hand. "I was going to," Guy starts, because often enough he does -- he likes the way Van watches him when he's fingering himself, and usually Van's happy to just look.

"I said I was going to take care of you," Van says, though, and Guy can't argue with that, not when Van says it so warmly and slides back into bed with him stripped and hard.

Guy rocks up onto his knees, arching his back, and Van groans like just watching hurts him. He uncorks the bottle and reaches back, and he's gentle but his fingers are thicker than Guy's, so it's a stretch when the first one pushes in. Guy moans, knows he should try harder to keep quiet, can't make himself do it. He gets to do this so rarely.

Even like this, when he's on his elbows and knees, it's as much about him rocking back onto Van's hand as it is about Van pushing fingers into him. It feels good, and Guy's cock hangs heavy and hard between his legs, but he doesn't reach for it. Van wanted to take care of him, right? He can wait for that. He's not a kid anymore, and he's learned some patience.

Van has two fingers in him, deep, stretching him open, when he finds the really good spot. "_Yes_," Guy says, pushing back hard, feeling Van's fingertips rub inside him just right.

"Gailardia," Van says, hoarse -- it's a plea, or at least it sounds like one.

It feels good to get the chance to be selfish for a little bit, though, so Guy stays right where he is for a minute, letting that pressure build through him until it's making his cock ache. "Okay, now," he says then, and Van pulls out, shifts to stretch out on the bed beneath him. Guy gives Van a minute to slick up more, settles his knees on either side of Van's waist, and lowers himself down.

He's never quite as ready for it as he thinks he is -- Van's cock stretches him wide, fills him up, and Guy slides down on it as slowly as he can, so he can draw that feeling out. He tilts his hips, pushing, and Van smiles up at him.

"Good?" Van asks, his hands sliding up Guy's thighs, broad and warm. It's only half a question, Guy thinks, given the way Van looks at him.

He nods anyway. "Good," he says, and braces himself with a hand on Van's shoulder when he gets the angle just right. He feels hot and full and sensitive, Van's cock and hands anchoring him in his body, and even though his instinct is to close his eyes, he tries not to. He wants to see Van like this, stretched out under him, watching him move.

"You look powerful there," Van murmurs, and he sounds proud. "Taking what you want. It suits you."

Guy laughs a little, rests his other hand on Van's forearm to feel the way muscle flexes under his fingers. "You shouldn't say stuff like that," he says, and pushes himself down harder onto Van's cock. "I can't afford to let it go to my head."

Van smiles. "My apologies," he says, and doesn't sound sorry at all. He strokes Guy's cock a little faster, following the tempo Guy's setting with his hips.

"Yeah, I -- guess I can forgive you this once," Guy says, and by _this once_ he probably means every time, and he's sure Van can tell, but that's okay. Who else knows him this well? Who else can he get this close to? He lets his guard down and just moves, lets himself enjoy the heat and friction and Van's strength, and these chances are too few and too far between, but it's enough to keep him going for now, and someday -- someday --

He meets Van's eyes, takes strength from the pride and determination he sees there. Yes. This will keep them going, until they have the chance to make things change.


End file.
